Into Annwn
by ianua cordis mei - Z
Summary: To be sent into hell is one thing, but to be sent into a world not your own is another. Join Alex Pederson as he is sent to 2161, and takes part in serving on Mindoir, Elysium, Torfan, and more.
1. Prologue I

**Author's Note: I've been reading a lot of the Self-inserts, and noticed that a lot of them usually jump straight into the ME storyline. I thought, 'what if I was sent about sixteen years prior to the advent of ME, year 2167 to be exact. Enjoy the prologue, you all!**

**(An additional author's note dating 5/10/12; Prologues are prologues, translating as 'thought experiments on trying to start the entire series up, if you somehow manage to get past the dry stuff, that needs editing and such, kudos to you! :D Anyway, the prologues will be updated with the actual story as time progresses, until I actually feel satisfied with their content. Cheers, ~Z) **

_Another Cloudy day…_

Another classic example of autumn today in Alaska, as Alex Pederson was walking home from a leadership seminar preparing him for assuming a platoon leadership position in Lima-Battalion, Alpha Company's Third Platoon.

He glances over to his right, as fusillade of colors from the changing trees barrage his glasses. 'One birch, two birch, a pine, some seagulls…' is his usual thought process when walking on the sidewalk, letting his mind wander, while his eyes gaze semi-watchfully for familiar faces, families riding bikes toward my direction, or speeding cars, just in case someone's break pads malfunction.

Now normally his days are spent thinking about people, places, and ideas. But, having a Spec Ops Master Sergeant, a Ranger Sergeant First Class, and a Lieutenant Colonel brain cram a bunch of Drill & Ceremony, Field training, and special 'how-to-chew-the-living crap out of someone' lessons in three days can guarantee a vegetative state-of-mind with anyone as their poor gray-goop tries to fathom the idea of being the lead Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) of an entire platoon.

Something caught his eye, his mind is lassoed in slightly to identify the sight. The brush of the rough forest of oranges, yellows, and greens gave away to a tall steel fence, which in turn gave away to the area's local tennis court being utilized by teenagers, adults, seniors, and the odd crew of the local firefighters station. The sound of laughter, young and old, were heard by seagulls, which in retaliation screeched their animosity, while eyeing the vittles that some families brought with them.

A throaty chuckle echoed from within the depths of his chest, his head shaking slightly at the sight. 'Even on a detestable day, people go out, and act as if the day is the most incomparably best day of their lives.' a section of his mind thought silently. He blinked twice, as a second section of his mind responded in return, ' An awfully cynic thought, where did that come from?'

His eyes wandered the crowd, as his mind started to rev up for some arguing with itself. A couple familiar faces, some cute girls, few old couples watching their grandkids. While his eyes wandered, the two voices within his head left the optimist/cynic argument behind, and started debating over the best colors of nature.

A flash of blonde caught his eyes, and reunites his drifting mind back into a plain human thought process. The flash of blonde turns into a face as his eyes dial in toward the feminine figure jogging towards him. She came up to him and smiles shyly and revealed a line of perfect white teeth.

"Hi, Alex." Madison said. She had blonde hair that would let light dance within it's locks, a heart shaped face; narrow, but sensuous lips, and a delicate narrow chin.

"Ah, Hi, Madison," he mused lightly, letting a grin cross his face, "heading to the court, to play some racquet sports?"

She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes and pushed his shoulder playfully, "It's Tennis, you oaf!"

"Yes, now _I_ remember," he said slowly, "the Sport Baldassare _Castle-Cat _recommends gentlemen play in his little book of the courtier."

"It's Castiglione," she laughs in her own sweet way, "anyway, what brings you over here? Felt like taking a walk for some special reason?

"No, I just finished off, a major brain-beating session with the battalion command and staff, They're prepping me for a leadership slot in one of the platoons."

"Oh, that sounds exciting, should I start calling you _Aeell-Taeee?_" She said in her best Tom Hanks impersonation.

They both burst out laughing, and found themselves looking into each others eyes and smiling. Finally after what seemed for an eternity, they broke contact, she ducking her eyes shyly, he, looking upward and lightly scratching his head, both blushing ever so slightly.

"Well, I'll be promoted to Sergeant First Class, as soon as I'm assigned a new platoon of freshmen." he said, breaking the awkward silence. '_It'll be harder to see you in the future_' he thought.

"That's great, congratulations, Alex," she seemed to think the same thing for that brief second. "I-I'd better go, the tennis team's waiting for me."

She started to move past me, a sadness touched her eyes, 'Damn it, Alex, ask her out before she walks away!' his mind screamed at him, his arm started to move on it's own accord, and placed it's hand on her shoulder. She paused, and looked back.

"Madison, before you go," he paused for a moment, hesitant, '_here goes nothing, feet first into Uffern_' "I was wondering if you'd like to go out some time, for some coffee or tea?"

Her eyes widened, '_I guessed that she's as surprised as I am over this scene_' she blushed deeply, smiled, started to nod, and uttered one word in bewilderment

"sure."

"Terra Bella Café, noon, Tomorrow?

"That sounds nice, I guess I'll see you there." with that, she turned and sprinted down toward the tennis court, blushing redder than the leaves around her.

He watched her go, and started down the dusty cement path, and went on his merry way home, smiling.

**Author Note: First time! First Story! First Everything! I'm very excited to make my first contribution to this wonderful website of stirring stories! Please, do comment on the story, point out anything that you like, that I could improve on, and review the whole nine yards! Thanks for reading this first chapter out of many, and hope you'll appreciate the ride, as much as I hope to.**

**Cheers all!**


	2. Prologue II

_**Author's note: A short chapter on life passing by. Time seemt relative to the Author while he continued to live life, barely finding time to type down stories. Updates will happen... Sporadically.**_

Chapter 2:

_Life goes on._

From that one Autumn day, Time continued forward. The new year begun, and Alex met, for the first time, his first command over one of the largest platoons in the entire battalion He met his teachers. And he earned their Friendship. He reconnected with friends. And he made new ones as well.

He met with Madison the day they agreed to, and he got to know her better than he did in the past two years, with that brief moment together.

Alpha Three won platoon of the month, in August, and he beamed with pride. Alpha Company earned Honor Company, and had it's first streamer added that day, His friend, the Captain beamed with pride too.

But that pride was bittersweet at best. His subordinents grew too relaxed with the idea of A3 being the best, and allowed others to start passing by. He and his platoon leader attempted to reignite that flame that carried them to victory the first time.

They Failed. His platoon settled down for second, third, even last place, once. Even with his speeches that can rouse the hearts of stone, and set flight to the wingless, spoke hollow in their ears. His measures of establishing order and discipline in those whom grew slack were at marginal success at best. Slowly, he started pulling them together.

But with the might of arms, and by blood alone, Alex dragged his platoon back to the the forefront for competition against the other platoons.

Over the time to the end of the year, he found himself spending more and time with Madison. He thoughts often wandered to her during dark times. And imagining her smile on his idle moments. They grew close at a slow and steady rate.

Now, on the last day of that year, he is transferred into First Platoon of Alpha Company, for replacement of what the battalion commander calls an uninspired, lazy, incompetent platoon leader. He heads on vacation, planning and preparing a special event for that night of that last day with the paramour of his heart.

The last day on earth.

Beginning with a cube.

Ending in Shadows.

Born anew.


	3. Preface

Preface

The character lists for book one

Good day, all, as I sit here in my chair, supping a warm mug of coffee, listening to a cafe del mar remix of Bob Marley's 'Sun is Shining', I always think of each day with two regards, one that groks life that has lead me to this point, and the other mentally sighing at the fact that it's snowing again, in cold, cold Alaska. But never-the-less, I wanted to write this out saying that this story has gone through many many phases, that has lead me to believe at this point, that this story that soon will be told, could become a possible novel. And at this point, I just wanted to thank everyone I know, from my family and friends, to the sci-fi writers of . But, most importantly of all, I wanted to thank you, my friend, for taking the time out of your day just to read a simple story written by a young man barely starting his career in life.

Thank you.

~ Zal


	4. Chapter One: The Journey Home

**1745 Hours, November13, 2011**

**United States of America, Anchorage, Alaska(49th)**

**Civilian Housing Sector, planet Earth**

The gentle rocking of the city bus holds me in it's embracing grasp, weaving a spell of tranquility as the heavy fans blows hot air throughout the cabin. It's hard to believe that anything as wonderful and as relaxing as this can last for such a short time.

My mind drifts among the small crowd of my fellow travelers as we each stayed within our individual bubbles, our little prisons that shield us away from the burdens of the world. I glance right to the pale white face curtained behind greasy black locks of flowing graceful hair.

She catches my eye and smiles slightly and mutters something that my lucid dreaming mind couldn't catch. My mouth whispers back, uncaring if my mind is able to understand the situation or not. She laughs, a tinkling noise.

I feel the bus sway hard left, as it took a left turn down salmon berry road. My mind slowly resurfaces from it's lucid dream state as I understand what she finally meant. "Your stop" she had said, she stops laughing, reaching up and pulls the wire that triggers the request for a halt mechanism.

**–Stop Requested– **

A toneless female voice calls the driver to halt while I stand up, quickly shouldering my ruck. I turn to her quickly and bid my farewell,

"Thanks for the seat, a-heh, it was nice talking again Forrest, I'll catch you around." She lets a thin smile through, "Alright, be safe when you head back out with your unit, okay?

I Smile back, stand up, and take a step to my left, then down a pair of steps, and turn towards the bus doors. The landscape whirring past behind the glass doors flicker with the sun's setting light dancing off of the arctic suburban region of Anchorage. One blink, and I'm back in Colorado, winter survival training...

**0630 Hours, July 26, 2008**

**United States of America, Colorado Military Wilderness**

**Training Preserve, planet Earth**

I held on tight as the V-22 Osprey accelerated up and over a jagged snow capped mountain range. The sun peeked over the horizon and washed the white snow with pinks and oranges. The other members of my unit pressed their faces close to the door to the cockpit, trying to get glances of the flying landscape.

John sat next to me and glances towards the ramp. "Sounds like it's a nice place for a snowball fight."

"You'd be the first to loose," Michaela said. She leaned over me to get a glance of the terrain through the cockpit doors. "I'm a dead aim with snowballs." she scratches the stubble of her shorn hair with a finger.

"Dead is right," I chuckle, "Especially when you stuff them with rocks."

SFC Price waved the trainees away from the door, and stepped from the cockpit into the passenger compartment. The trainees stood and snapped to attention. "At ease, and sit down." The salt and pepper hair in Price's hair glinted in the patchy light.

"Today's mission will be simple for a change." Price's voice easily pierced the roar of the VTOL's rotors. He handed a stack of papers to Michaela, "Pass 'em out, Recruit."

"Sarge!"She salutes sharply, and handed out one paper to each of the thirty-two trainees in the platoon.

"These are portions of the map for the local region. You will drop in individually, and then navigate to a marked extraction point on one of those maps, and we will exfill you from there."

I turned the map over, it was just one piece of a larger map, no exfill locations, no marked points.

_ How the hell am I going to navigate this without any point of reference? _I nod slightly, shrug ever so unnoticeably

_ This is just a part of the mission. I guess I'll figure it out as I go._

"One more thing," Price said. "the last one of you mooks that gets to the exfill point is going to get left behind," He glanced behind, savoring an extra look at the terrain, "And it's a long, cold and, miserable walk back home."

_I don't like it._ I lightly shook my head, just the thought of John, or Michaela, or anyone else having hike across those mountains sends a shiver down my spine._ Even if we do have enough rations for a master survivor to make it back, I don't think even a group of master survivors can make it back._

"First drop is three minutes out," Price barks, "Trainee Peterson, first one to step feet first into hell."

I stepped up and hooked up, and shuffled to the door, SFC Price off to my left tapped a button on his mic and shouted something through the comm. The Osprey lurched to a slower speed as the Ramp slowly lowered down...

**1747 Hours, November13, 2011**

**United States of America, Anchorage, Alaska(49th)**

**Civilian Housing Sector, planet Earth**

The bus comes to a slow halt, and the double doors part aside for my jump. I wave my gratitude to the driver as I take one a quick hop off, and continue on my way home. Time passes by quick as I reminisces on my advanced courses. My mental player sets up a song from my private stash. Melody Gardot's 'Worrisome Heart' begins with its piano entree, and opens up to the main course of the song.

_I need a hand, with my worrisome heart,_

_ I need a hand with my worrisome heart._

As I cross some iced over roads, the cars halting before me, rumbling, grumbling of their predicament of being forced to halt for one mere pedestrian. I paid them to attention. Quickly reaching the end of this crossing, and I await for my next one.

_I would be lucky to find me a man _

_ Who could love me the way that I am_

_ With this here worrisome heart _

I felt something awaken within my mind, but I ignored it, as another pedestrian stepped up next to me. Out of my peripherals, I can spot him topped by a classic black Sinatra fedora, his face was swathed behind a white balaclava, eyes hidden behind shades. _Also a long heavy raincoat... you don't see that everyday, in Alaska. Wot. Well, green light, lets go._

I step off onto the ice-smothered roads, and notice my dark comrade decides to keep in step with me. The reflections of the ice, and of the windows of the cars shows only me walking by. When we step off onto the sidewalk again, I turn left and start on the final stretch home. My shady companion turns with me in step and continues to march alongside me.

"So... Cecil," I say, barely turning my head towards him, " When are you going to say why you're out of my mind again?"

"Reminiscing about your training again, hmm?" Cecil's voice grates, "I would think you would be more elated to the fact that you don't have to work with your charges for a full two weeks."

I run my hand through my shorn hair, "Don't remind me. That platoon is more trouble than a pit full of starving pigs. How the hell was I assigned out here to instructor duty?"

You know that answer already." he responds again. The music in my head comes to a screeching halt. I turn to face him for the first time. And we utter the stanza of the creed that I live by;

"The mission always comes first."

_The Mission Always Comes First._


	5. Chapter Two: Almost There

**1750 Hours, November13, 2011**

**United States of America, Anchorage, Alaska(49th)**

**Civilian Housing Sector, planet Earth**

_With my shoes lightly sliding about on a foot of slick ice at the top of the mountain-slope that is the road to my house, surrounded by several mounds of snow, I think the cold finally baked my brain with it's lack of baking radiation that the sun belovedly shines on southerners, (discounting the sunlight that shows up for an hour a day, of course.) For here I am talking to someone who is essentially me talking to myself from my point of view. Un-freakin-believable, if you were sane that is. Que up the insane giggling, heh. Lets get back to reality 2.0._

I break out into a grin, glancing about quickly to make sure that no one was watching, then slapped Cecil's shoulder and fist-bump him., "Man, it's great talking to you again! What's up with the new get-up and with you keepin' to yourself up here?" I tapped my skull and began to walk down the driveway

He lets out a throaty chuckle as he stepped off to accompany me down the desolate path, "Well, you see, 'Ell-Tee', I can't remember, nor would I wish to remember such details, but essentially, somewhere in your mind, I happened to encounter the Insanity-of-Thine-Mind holding our Lady of Mercy prisoner behind a the drawn lines of the Dark Anger's boarders. And I needed a disguise to get in that inferno."

"Erm, it's been a while since I've had time to think about any of this, mind translating the jargon?"

Cecil shrugs with both arms, "Felicity, somehow with all her shenanigans, tricked Isabella into eloping into the house of Par'xal in some ridiculous attempt of converting him to the light side, and in return for such interruptions, he showed his irritation by liquidating her into goop, sucking her into a satanic-turkey baster, sticking her inside a zip-lock, and finishing it all by sticking the bag in his freezer. None the less that is a story that I wish to _not_ delve into anytime soon."

I burst out laughing as my mind's movie reel plays along with his narration to the max extent that my imagination would allow me to. It was gloriously funny! The memories flow back to me, flashing blonde hair whipping through autumn strewn winds, a plateau adorned with citadel of steel and steam flowing as organic as nature itself, an shadowed forest that morphs and changes as rapidly as a river flows. I blink. The world blinks back white with a brief flash of pain

The Avatar of Justice lets out a loud guffaw, paused his stride, and kneels next to the tangle mess of myself as I attempt to extract myself from the blue-black cold grasp of snow. I quickly stand back up with the intent of saving some form of dignity and slip heads over heels again into another snow drift

"Hahaha! 'Tis only fair justice, Master, to laugh at the misfortune of others, is to only have it turn upon yourself." He pats my back with his gloved hand as I slowly stand up for the second time, brushing the snow off of me. As soon as I finished, we resume our journey home in silence.

_Our thoughts introvert upon ourselves, it seems, my thoughts to stew within my being, and the quasi-thoughts of Cecil's to muse upon anything relating to his essence. Lets see... it's been a while since I've actually thought about my story... maybe a review would do nicely... Mr. Musician, lets set it to some Fragrance of Dark Coffee, orchestral style..._

**0843 Hours, season of storms, seventh era**

**Valley of Winds, Truth's peak region**

**Monastery of the Morcitan, planet Myr**

****In a place where the scales of time hopelessly blur, many hear the tales of those that came before. Let us Enter the valley of Legends, a place where mythical beings forged of flesh and steel who once ruled our world as benevolent rulers, had retreated to after the first rending of Myr–

"Unca, what did these monsters look like?" A young tot lisped, disrupting the tale. Her delicate features scrunched up in interest as she drew a lock of long fox-fire hair away from her eyes. The low-lit room of the gatehouse's fireplace played upon her features, drawing out the fine characteristics of her ancestry.

An ancient man with narrow rheumy eyes, and smiled kindly at his pride and joy, and spoke in a smooth bass voice, "Well, my dear, These beings were in fact not monsters, since supposedly during their time they would strike from the air, sea, and land just to defend the fledgling species on our planet." He gestured around the room, pointing out a scarred saber emblazoned with a seal of three raindrops. A crimson stained mask of steel shaped into a raven. And of a large tome upon the gatehouse's study table. "Many called them Guardians, Sentinels, Protectors, and so forth depending on the race. But as far as I know, they were in fact called the 'Hil'Ser, caretakers of Myr'."

"Hal'Sir, Unca?"

"That's Hil'Ser, young'n"

"Why did they choose a funny name like Hel'Purr?"

"Well, Hal'Ser supposedly mean–"

"What did the Hyl'Fur look like? I think they looked like an Ihn'tal'ayn with spec-tal wings!" The young girl broke into a giggling smile, and fluttered her hands together, mimicking a flying Hil'Ser.

Gatekeeper Emile chuckled quietly at his adopted grandniece's antics, "You know, you remind me too much of your great great grandmother, Laurain."

"You mean great great Grunma? I got to sit on her lap once! She had silver hair, and had many many wrinkles like tree skin, and had a wide pretty smile!"

"Yes, She did indeed." Emile sighs, letting his rheumatic eyes wander back to the war-worn blade, "It was a terribly sorrowful when she crossed over to the sunlit pastures. But, as you know, little chickadee Lauria, we always celebrate such sad events with a jubilation of our beloved's accomplishments." His meandering smile dims slightly as he tilts his head around towards the door.

"Hush now, young'n, someone's coming in... feathery steps, with either deliberate care taken in trying to be stealthy, or another ancient is about to grace us with her presence."

A light rasp on the great oaken door sounds in in beat with Emile's soliloquy, and the door glides outwards on it's well-oiled joints, showing an equally ancient woman dressed in a woodland brown habit–

Quick rumblings of the road with the roar of a combustion engine brings me back hitherto, I snap back into reality, and move quickly to the far side of the road into the drifts of snow, as Cecil just calmly walk-floats on light-shined ice...

_That makes me jelly. Heh heh. Being able to drive on this slick-as-seal-schmits road. _Myself and I turn around the final bend, as a blue pickup gently grumbles past me, through cecil. The Driver waves one hand to me in acknowledgment, and I return the gesture towards his side mirror.

We continue walking for a few minutes, getting around the bend, and lo'n'behold... wait for it... There's my house! The old, white-blue bear cave, stacked with enough ice and snow to hide it from one of humanities many satellites. Not joking of course, in all Ernest truth with any winter google map of our house from up top, you'd only see what appears to be a white field between two houses.

As we march up the stairs, I knock down some newly formed icicles with my hand, as we passed by. I snatch one of the more thinner ones and begin to chew on it while I unzip one of my pockets, and take out a set of keys on a lanyard, and quickly shuffle over the ice barrier of the top deck.

_Most precarious part here, just a few steps to freedom and warmth... just one loose board... Mr. board please don't slip me up... _I place one foot on top of the loose board, bracing a hand against the door, should the worst come to happen. Pausing for a quick heartbeat, I sigh in relief in the fact that I won't suffer a second slip in the same day. I unlock the door and pull to open it, only to find it slightly frozen shut...

"Son of a Bean Dipped Mother Frito!"

** A/N: _Commence Door pounding to the beat of "I'm your Bass Hunter", _Lol just kidding, but point is, the question is, if you're stuck outside of your house, with a frozen door in the way, wouldn't you be kinda irked too? Anyway, that's the end of this chapter, Do add reviews, opinions, and whatnot, creative criticisms appreciated, but I'm not to much of a stickler, lol. **

**Cheers all! :D**


	6. Chapter Three: Hot Chocolate?

Thus, here, I stand. Denied access to this house of mine. With one foot, I stand in a bank of snow, the other, at the base of the ice-sheathed doorway. I stare at it, this gateway to my liberation from the white shrouded valley, that slowly is seeped in the coming darkness of nightfall. Waves of irritation flows from my generally placid psyche, as my eyebrows furrow, knitting a warm scarf for my forehead.

Cecil pulls his hood forward a bit more, and drifts back a bit muttering under his breath, "Goodbye good mood, see you later."

Thoughts dance though my head, as my subconscious thinks of thinks I could be doing , had I not been denied entrance... a happy dog that races to greet me, warmth of the fireplace, dry skivvies with a heavy cotton bath robe with slippers, a sizzling steak that I was aging just for a night like this, and Irish hot chocolate... I twist the door knob once more, and with all the force I can muster in that brief moment, I strike the door once and listen for any sounds of breaking the seal, feeling for any movement of the door budging... nothing...

My mind filled with the crimson mists of focused rage as I begin to assault the door with my fist, each blow striking at the borders of the door in a crazed attempt in breaking the insolent ice. Within the minute, my adrenaline-addled mind hears the sounds of glass-like cracking of ice, and the groans of budging wood, And as sure as a snake slithers , the door slowly gave it's ardent position away with each strike until with my chest burning from the cold, and my fist of rage leaving a crimson mark upon the wood, the door finally flew back on it's hinges.

A blast of hot air strikes my face, blowing the red haze from my mind. It left me colder than being under a hot shower. I quickly step inside and close the door to keep the precious heat it. I glance back at Cecil as he draws back his hood and begins undoing the straps on the back of his mask. I look back to my own cloths and begin to strip off the outer shell of clothing.

"Feeling regret for using your anger to solve problems, still?" Cecil asks me as I set my coat to dry in the closet.

"Even if it's tactfully applied. We both know it's generally a moral and social taboo, usually hidden by many members of sociaty in fear of persicution, or for the use of generally nefarious means. Enough to deny any kind of utilization on my part." I start walking to the kitchen with the intent of warming up a tea pot of water, "More or less, it's better to keep a cool head, and deal with crap like that as it comes into view."

"I concur, all solid sounding. In fact I believe that's what you did, eying that door being frozen, you decided to use that cool head and light it up to open the door. But you never did answer the original question."

"Hm... hot chocolate, or tea? I believe it's a choc-o-latie time, don't you? I mean, I did kind of think about getting one today, but I never did." Absentmindedly ignoring his prodding, I reach over and grab a mug from one of the pegs on the wall, grabbing the hot pot with my other, filling the mug three-fourths of the way full. Then gingerly, putting the pot down, I place the cup on the counter, and open one of the pantries, and begin to browse my collection of chocolates. "Say, Any recommendations for this kind of weather?"

"Giovanni dark, Ghirardelli milk chocolate, and Scharffenberger natural, in that order. Still haven't answered."

"Don't intend to."

"Well, isn't–"

"You're being rather strong you know."

"Ah, sorry."

"Quite."

With that final word I pick my mug up, and carry it to the dining table, only to place it next to my laptop. "Say, in any point of this week, have I made anything along the lines of a wooden cube in what looks like a four inch by four inch by four inch dimension? A perfect cube, in other words?" I gesture to a hidden cube behind my laptop, as I sit down, and power it up to the desktop.

"Uh... no. You did make a dimondwood cane and pinewood foot stool three and five days ago. but again, no wooden cube.

"Strange, I didn't make no wooden cube, but there's a bloody block." I turn to the screen, and pull up the music player, and apathetically browsed my music library until I found my choice, and powered the boombox behind my laptop and turned the volume to a modest decibel to the music of Metric: _Artificial Nocturne, Love Thy Brother Remix_, of course.

As the digital wows winds up, and the singer begins her monologue, I turn my attention to the cube, it does look like a triple four even cube, a solid natural wooden block. I pick it up and look at it closer. _alright, analytical powers, activate... Looks like Oak, each panel is unique, different sets of rings, heartwoods spots are non-existent. Hmm, seems as though the rings have some kind of pattern, non circumferential... no cracks, no proof of being carved straight from wood, or being pieced together._ TAP! TAP! TAP! _Wood sounds hollow within, and cube is light in weight... _

"Bloody strange, Mr. Block. I wonder where you came from..." I feel my gaze growing more serious, pulling the cube closer to my eyes. My mind exploring any kind of memory related to this cube. "Oh well," I set the cube down languidly, "It's too much effort to even bother with a simple cube as this." I slouch back into my chair and begin to nurse my hot chocolate as the music plays. Slowly I begin to droop further, the ebbs and flows of music carrying me upon it's whimsical waves, sailing me forth under it's power, until everything starts to fade black...

"Damn! I forgot the Irish whiskey!" I bolt up to remedy the situation.

**Aaaand Scene! Hey, it's the author, just wanted to drop by and say thanks for sticking with the prologue as it merrily drones closer to the actual fun stuff, as Mr. Pederson goes to get his drink refixed, I'm here with the exact same cup of hot chocolate, and I had a thought, 'why not interact with you guys a bit at the end of the chapters instead of leaving them out of my whimsical fun!' **

**well, it went something like that, but more to the point is, I have a question for y'all and I'm quite curious, at the time of reading this, "whatcha drinking along with the reading?" otherwise, Thank you for reading, catch you in a while, and Like, review, and subscribe if you'd like to see more. ( /end apparent attention whoring) Cheers! :D**


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